


National Send a Nude Day

by onereader



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, cop stiles, model!Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onereader/pseuds/onereader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson had come back to Beacon Hills at the end of their high school careers, attending the graduation and taking part in the ritual to settle the Nemeton that demanded all the members of the pack to be present, estranged or otherwise....All of this is to say that Jackson was more relaxed (though still snarky in all the best ways), completely unattached, and batted for both teams. Therefore, Stiles knew he was utterly screwed.</p><p>In which long distance communication becomes a bit more up close and personal than expected, selfies are taken to a whole new level, and romantic plans come to fruition. Something sweet and happy for our boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	National Send a Nude Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/gifts).



> If you like what I write and want to get to know me better, come over to [shealwaysreads](https://shealwaysreads.tumblr.com) and flail with me about stackson!
> 
> This is a gift for the lovely Inell who never fails to encourage, support and inspire - often with amazing pics like [this nsfw one](http://coltonhaynesofficial.tumblr.com/post/144621007773/happy-nationalsendanudeday-everyone-lol) that started this fic so go check her out!

Jackson had come back to Beacon Hills at the end of their high school careers, attending the graduation and taking part in the ritual to settle the Nemeton that demanded all the members of the pack to be present, estranged or otherwise. Stiles had immediately been acutely reminded of why he had such trouble getting on with Jackson in high school – it was just like before he went to London – but worse. Because Jackson was now settled into his own skin, so Stiles now had to contend with him being hot as the sun and not being a total ass. Lydia and Jackson had gone away for a couple of days to his parent’s beach house, and come back with the messy tatters of their relationship resolved. Their love had banked down into the kind of lifelong friendship and understanding that both of them valued and protected. Jackson also happened to casually come out to the pack as bisexual when commenting on one of Stiles’ rants about bi-erasure in popular media. All of this is to say that Jackson was more relaxed (though still snarky in all the best ways), completely unattached, and batted for both teams. Therefore, Stiles knew he was utterly screwed.

 

After Jackson’s departure back to London and his life there, the pack made sure to maintain contact with group chats and regular Skype calls. Jackson even sent the occasional post card if he was travelling in Europe, which happened more and more as his career as a model started to take off while most of the pack were going to college or getting jobs. It was close to the end of Stiles’ time at the police academy that all of the pack was on a break from their respective colleges and gathered in the McCall living room catching up and eating Mellissa out of house and home. As they often did, the pack was taking videos and pictures and sharing them with Cora and Derek down in Argentina, and Jackson across the pond. Stiles was smugly showing off how he could now do press-ups with the petite weight of Kira sitting on his back (yeah okay so the academy fitness programme wasn’t all _that_ bad after all) and Lydia was snorting as she sent the video off to their far flung friends.

 

As he settled himself back into an armchair to watch as Scott jumped into the centre of the room to demonstrate his feats of strength to a chorus of ‘not fair – you’re a werewolf!’ – Stiles’ phone buzzed in his pocket. As he dug it out of his jeans he noticed Lydia watching him from the corner of her eye and he squinted at her suspiciously before turning his attention to the message on his phone. It was from Jackson, but not into the group chat the pack usually used to communicate – this was a conversation thread that only he and Jackson were a part of. It had started with a message wishing him a happy birthday the previous year and the two of them had maintained pretty consistent contact, sharing how their day went through messages and photos and anecdotes. Stiles tried not to let on to the rest of the pack just how much he treasured those personal moments that Jackson chose to share with him only, and tamped down at every opportunity the growing desire to see Jackson’s smile in person again. He was a grown up now, and had enjoyed college and all of its sexual and romantic adventures to their fullest. So he was still vainly trying to pretend to himself that he hadn’t fallen once again into his personal trap of losing his heart to people that might care about him but never in the way he wanted, never people that he could actually have more than a snowball’s chance in hell at being with.

 

That being said, he’s sure every werewolf in the room heard his heart skip a beat when he noticed the message from Jackson was just for him. Then he opened the chat thread. Now it was likely that every were in _Beacon Hills_ could hear his heartbeat accelerating and thudding heavy in his chest. This was not a selfie like any of the others Jackson had ever sent him, usually full of ridiculous duck mouth and funny faces. Oh no, this was serious. This was a full frontal, fully nude, fully _overwhelming_ photograph that surely to every deity out there transcended mere ‘selfie’ territory because _holy wow that was Jackson naked and looking right down the camera with his eyebrow raised just so and-_ and Stiles was aware his mouth was gaping wide and hastened to snap it shut before anyone noticed what was going on. Never mind the sudden readjustment of his seating position to conceal any possible…effects of seeing, well, _all_ of that.

 

Sudden bursts of laughter from the sofa dragged his attention away from his phone screen and back to the group, and a giggling Kira turned her phone to show him the group chat thread in which Jackson had shared the same photograph. Stiles’ heart sank – of course he wasn’t being singled out and having a naked selfie sent to him by Jackson of all people. It was a mistake. But then he craned forward and saw that in this version of the photograph Jackson had put laughing cat emojis all over the more…delicate parts on display. And had put the ridiculous message ‘happy national send a nude day everyone!’

 

Stiles laughed along with everyone else, the cat faces were funny after all, and the fact that Jackson was so relaxed with the whole group – enough to share his frankly surprisingly goofy sense of humour – warmed Stiles’ heart. He thumbed off a quick message to Jackson in their private chat, letting him know that he had accidently sent the uncensored version to him, all the while trying not to even think about the moral quandary he’d find himself in that night when trying to delete that photo from his phone. He’s well aware he’s no saint. By now the group is debating the merits and pitfalls of the naked selfie and if they’ve ever done it, and Stiles relaxes back into the chair while he waits for Jackson’s response. Probably a not-that-embarrassed ‘oops’.

 

But what he gets is another picture, this time one of him – clearly taken at the gathering he’s currently at. It’s of him sitting in the same armchair looking down at his phone with a totally, _awfully_ obvious look on his face. His mouth is open, and his eyes are wide and a treacherous blush is covering his cheeks and peeking up from the collar of his t-shirt. It’s painfully clear what his reaction to the photo Jackson sent him is – clear, unadulterated want is written clear across his countenance. Before he can even begin thinking of what excuse he’s going to give, what explanation is going to get him out of this potentially friendship ruining exposure, another message blinks into existence before his eyes.

 

**J: wasn’t a mistake. not if that face means what i hope it means.**

**J: stop freaking out man. im not fucking with you – not like as a joke anyway.**

**J: ;)**

Stiles blinked at his phone, pretty sure his face was about as confused as it had ever looked. And then his brain suddenly started working again as he realised the angle from which the shot of him was taken – and he darted his glance over to Lydia. His suspicions are, as usual, spot on – she held his glare and lifted her head, her eyes flashing as she motioned for him to join her in the kitchen.

 

“Stiles, come help me with some snacks – you know I prefer your popcorn.”

 

He dragged himself out of the chair and slinked out of the room after her, dreading the conversation they were about to have. No doubt another rendition of the ‘you have to stop doing this to yourself Stiles, attaching yourself to unattainable people is a method of distancing yourself from real emotional connection’. Yeah. The police academy has also demanded he see a shrink. It had kind of helped in some ways, despite the clearly skewed version of events he had fed her. But instead of being greeted with any kind of pitying gaze, Lydia’s eyes were bright with mirth and she leant in close to him.

 

“So – what did he say?! Did you see your face?”

 

On seeing Stiles’ blank face and lack of immediate response Lydia clearly filled in the blanks and grabbed him close to her, a rare embrace from the girl who still sometimes seemed far away in her own head.

 

“Oh Stiles, come on,” she whispered by his ear. “Surely you must have realised that the majority of those postcards have been for you?”

 

She sighed heavily and drew back, keeping her hands on his shoulders to give him a gentle shake.

 

“I should have known better than to think this stupid naked idea would work but you’re going to thank me for playing along in about 5 years, I’m sure. No – shh. No. Let me speak. Yes he meant to send you that, no its not a joke. Yes he likes you like that, no – he hasn’t told anyone other than me. He’s been worried that if you weren’t interested back it would cause even more rifts with the pack.”

 

Stiles opened his mouth to speak only to have one of Lydia’s tiny, perfectly manicured, hands firmly placed over it.

 

“Need I remind you that we are currently in a house full of werewolves and I’m pretty sure they’re going to start listening in shortly? I suggest you go home and call him – video call so you can _see_ he’s not joking. I’ll cover for you.” She leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Look after him, and I expect to get free reign on the planning when you two get married in five years, okay?”

With that, he found himself unceremoniously shoved out the back door of the McCall’s house with the door slammed shut behind him. With his mind ticking over at about a million miles an hour, Stiles decided that he’d let Lydia’s wisdom guide him in this instance and so he hopped into the Jeep and headed home. Once there he headed up to his room, still filled with the echoes of his youth – he wouldn’t be making enough money until he graduated the academy for his own place - and pulled out his laptop. When he opened Skype Jackson was already online and he picked up the call as soon as Stiles made it. It was nearly nine at night in Beacon Hills so Jackson was either up crazy late, or crazy early because of the time difference. When the video call came through on his laptop screen Stiles had to catch his breath because Jackson was perfectly put together, his hair styled and his skin sun kissed. It looked like he was in a car with blacked out windows – probably on his way to a shoot - and he was smiling at him.

 

“Hey, um – morning - you’re up early?”

 

Jackson snorted and shook his head ruefully.

 

“Yeah, yeah it’s…pretty early here. But I wanted to catch you on a night I knew you’d be off – didn’t want to keep you up too late on a school night.” Jackson smirked, he knew Stiles hated it when he called the academy ‘school’ but it was just another part of the companionable snark that they had developed over the last year. “I, uh,” the smirk fell away to be replaced by a slightly pensive expression. “Lydia mentioned that just sending that picture with no message might have been a douche move?”

 

It was Stiles’ turn to snort this time. He looked away from the screen, avoiding eye contact in case he gave too much away, sill unsure of what _exactly_ was going on here.

 

“Yeah I…I’m still not sure exactly what you’re trying to say and-” he glanced up at the screen and saw Jackson’s eyebrows drawn together, and returned his gaze to studying his knees. “And I really don’t want to get anything wrong here so if you could, just, I don’t know. Explain? Or – I mean. Lydia was kind of cryptic but was this some kind of prank…or-“

 

“ _No!_ ” Jackson almost shouted, interrupting his rambling concerns. “No. No this is not a prank, I wouldn’t, this - this isn’t that.” Jackson clenched his jaw before continuing. “I should have just listened to Lydia but I thought you’d like the photo and got carried away. In my defence – I was up half the night winding myself up so maybe I got a bit ahead of myself.”

 

Stiles just sat watching Jackson speak, at how it was apparently his turn to stare at his knees and look nervous. Which, frankly, wasn’t a sight Stiles had ever seen before. Nervous Jackson is not something that he thinks many people have _ever_ seen. Seeing him like this made something flutter in Stiles’ belly, something that was on just the right side of anxiety – more like excitement. More like hope.

 

“I sent you that picture because, yes, I’m an ass okay? But not in the way I know you were thinking.” Jackson raised his face then, maintaining eye contact with Stiles that felt electric even if there were thousands of miles between them right now. “I did actually think you’d like the picture. I wanted _–_ no – I _want_ you to like the picture. Because I want you to like everything I do.”

 

Stiles felt his mouth drop open again, for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Was Jackson saying what he thought he was saying?

 

“I want you to like my postcards, I want you to like my editorials. I want you to laugh at my jokes, I want to you be proud of my achievements. Because. Because when I write those postcards I’m thinking of you, okay? And when you laugh I just – your face just lights up and I could look at it all day. And apparently I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore, and I’m glad of that, but I care about the kind of person you think I am.” Jackson’s eye contact hadn’t wavered, but Stiles could see the way he was clenching his jaw tightly. The nervousness was still there in every inch of Jackson’s body, his eyebrows drawn together and face earnest.

 

“Shit Jackson, do you- I mean- are you saying this because you value our friendship? Because you know I’m proud of you – my classmates at the academy always point out the magazines you’re in because they know I’m always on the lookout for them.” Stiles couldn’t help the smile that stole across his face thinking of it, and of the way all of his classmates _also_ teased him mercilessly (though not meanly) about his clearly massive crush on ‘Golden Boy’ as they all referred to Jackson.

 

“No, Stiles,” Jackson smiled again, but was shaking his head. “No, though I’m happy to know I have my own PR machine back home, and I do value our friendship – and I always will okay? Regardless of how this conversation goes. But I mean that when I say I could look at your smile all day, the only thing I want more is to kiss it.”

 

Jackson outright laughed at whatever wide-eyed look of absolute surprise that crossed Stiles’ face at that remark. Because this? This was beyond what Stiles every even let himself hope for. This was what he’d been quietly, desperately wanting in that secret part of himself he hadn’t even shared with Scott for the last three years. He realised that Jackson’s laughter had trailed off and he was now watching Stiles with a look of apprehension, and was clearly waiting for a response.

 

“Jackson, I mean. If you were here? If you were here, right now, I can’t think of anything else I’d want more than to be kissing you.”

 

He felt the blush rise in his cheeks, and his stomach lurched at finally admitting this out loud after so long. Jackson was fidgeting in his seat and his eyes were looking out of frame, Stiles could hear the murmur of someone speaking. It was probably time for Jackson to go to work. As fast as his hope had come true, reality crashed in – Jackson was thousands of miles away, he’d made his home in London and that was something they would have to contend with. Stiles would be happy to have a long distance relationship but already he ached to touch Jackson, just to hug him and feel that this revelation was real. Jackson nodded at whomever was speaking to him and refocused on Stiles, his face softening as he looked at him.

 

“I’ve got to hang up now okay? I’ve got to do something, but I’ll talk to you really soon. This is a conversation we are gonna have but I just wanted to be sure you knew this wasn’t a joke. Is that alright?”

 

Stiles nodded dumbly, still smiling despite the slight reality check that Jackson’s busy work life was giving him.

 

“Yeah Jackson, just call me when you’re done and we can talk – and don’t worry about waking me up. This is worth staying up for.”

 

Jackson laughed and nodded, gave a little half wave, and hung up. Stiles was left with a blank screen that just reflected his own face back at him, a combination of overjoyed and bittersweet that he didn’t get to have that conversation face to face with Jackson. A loud rumble from his stomach broke Stiles from his reverie and he dragged himself from his bed to go downstairs and find some food, having been unceremoniously thrown out of Scott’s place before the take out even arrived realised he was starving.

 

He was leaning against the fridge, trying to figure out what to cook up for himself, when he heard a knock at the front door. His dad was out so he figured it was just one of the pack come over to check on him, maybe Lydia if she had been in on the Jackson thing the whole time. She would probably want to see how their cunning plan had worked out, and make sure that Stiles was okay. Their friendship had developed into a deep bond that had begun when they had knuckled down to do the research to put the Nemeton to rest, and had blossomed over the intervening years.

 

“Come in – it’s open!” He yelled from his position in the kitchen, still mulling over whether he could be bothered cooking anything when he could always call in a pizza.

 

He heard the front door open and then close, and soft footsteps through the house but then nothing but a knock on the frame of the kitchen doorway.

 

“It’s good to know the future sheriff keeps a tight eye on security, letting any old stranger into his father’s house.”

 

Stiles whirled around at the familiar voice, deep and warm and so much richer in person rather than through a video feed.

 

“ _Jackson?!_ How? What?”

 

He was aware that he was probably gaping unattractively but this was Jackson, in his kitchen, not some glamorous set in Europe. Jackson had one hand in the front pocket of a worn, soft looking Beacon Hills lacrosse hoodie, and the other went to rub at the back of his neck as he looked down, a bright smile on his face and dimples in full effect. Stiles felt his knees go weak at the sight. It had been six months since he’d seen Jackson in the flesh and yeah, maybe Jackson looked a little tired from the transatlantic flight. But, God, he was gorgeous.

 

“Yes, me. How – airplanes, they’re these amazing things that fly in the air, you might have heard of them? What. A conversation, which you – no – that we deserve to have in person.” Jackson moved forward, within reaching distance and so Stiles did reach out. His fingers brushed against the washed cotton of Jackson’s top and he felt the warmth of him through it and suddenly he needed more than that. Stiles practically threw himself at Jackson, wrapping his arms around his neck and leaning into his warmth, needing the solid fact of his body so much after the rollercoaster of emotions his evening had turned out to be. The fact that Jackson didn’t hesitate for one moment before curling his arms around Stiles’ waist and holding him tightly to him made Stiles’ chest feel tight. He could almost cry for the relief that washed over him. Jackson really had meant it, and he had come for Stiles. Instead of ruining the night with being an overly emotional sap he contented himself with a deep inhale, the faint scent of Jackson’s expensive cologne filling his senses. Jackson clearly took that as permission to do his own scenting, slightly more thorough and definitely of the werewolf variety. He rubbed his jaw along Stiles’ and then buried his face in Stiles’ neck, his chest expanding with the deep breaths he took there. He slowly drew back, his hands falling to hold Stiles’ hips as he put some small distance between them.

 

“I hope this is alright? I’m not overstepping here, am I?”

 

The fact that Jackson would come all this way, plan this whole thing, and then be willing to step back and give Stiles the room to say he was overwhelmed was the clincher. Stiles brought his hands to Jackson’s face, cradling that sharp jaw and rubbing his thumbs gently along his cheekbones, knowing the smile on his face must be of huge proportions but simply not caring. He leaned in slowly, giving Jackson plenty of time to stop him, and then gently, softly, brushed his lips against Jackson’s. Jackson sucked in a sharp breath at that first contact, and then a shivery exhalation against Stiles’ lips, which were buzzing in anticipation. The hands on his hips gripped tighter and pulled him in, their bodies once again aligned from knee to chest, and Jackson leaned in to press their mouths together more firmly before drawing back infinitesimally to draw his tongue along Stiles’ bottom lip.

 

“I have wanted to kiss that smile for an embarrassingly long time,” Jackson murmured against his mouth before diving in to deepen the kiss further. The admission only made Stiles smile even more, a grin breaking out across his face and making kissing impossible. Jackson didn’t seem to care, dropping feather light kisses across Stiles’ smile and cheeks and neck. And Stiles would have been content to let him carry on all night, but his stomach chose that moment to once again make itself known and grumbled loud enough that his human ears heard it. Jackson smothered a snort in Stiles’ neck and then pulled back, that same slightly bashful grin on his face.

 

“Let me treat you to pizza, order in, because I’ve been flying for hours and I’ve been out of my mind worrying about how this would go so I couldn’t eat a bite all day. Lets eat, and talk, and then you can decide how you want to do this, if you want there to be an ‘us’. Okay?”

 

“Yeah, pizza sounds like a great idea. And lets decide this together, because if there’s going to be an ‘us’ it’s got to be both of us choosing it.”

 

Jackson’s smile was blinding and he nodded, leaning in again for another kiss, another kiss, another kiss.

 

* * *

 

 

It turned out that Jackson could do his job based in California just as well as in Europe, and it meant that various pack members could join him on his round the world travels. Stiles graduated from the academy with flying colours and was on the fast track to becoming the youngest sheriff Beacon Hills had ever had.

 

Lydia was wrong in her prediction. It only took them two years before they decided to get married. She did hold Stiles to his promise though, and orchestrated a beautiful day for the two of them - intimate and full of family and pack. Jackson never tired of kissing Stiles’ smile, and Stiles never tired of showing Jackson how proud he was of him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
